


Promises

by cynical21



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical21/pseuds/cynical21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another version of how a lovely queen gives up that which is most precious to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who might have forgotten (and I can't imagine how anyone would, but nevertheless) it is not now, never has been and never will be Disney material.

************* **************** *************

It wasn't strength that kept him tall and straight and steady on his feet. And it certainly wasn't energy; he couldn't remember the last time he'd had any of that. It wasn't courage or dignity or honor or any of those noble Jedi disciplines; it was sheer, unadulterated stubbornness, and the knowledge that he had made a promise - a promise which he had been unable to keep.

And now, he must face the consequences - on his feet.

He moved down the vast marble hallways of Theed's beautiful palace, and noted that, even in the middle of the night, there was never true darkness in this enchanted place; pale moonlight poured liquid silver through tall windows and formed pools of radiance through which he walked - a dark, cloaked figure, moving like a shadow, silent, flowing.

He wanted no confrontation in the wee hours of this morning; he had had enough of confrontation today to last him a lifetime - literally, perhaps - although his connection to the Force chided him gently for embracing such an obvious delusion. Still, he would allow himself this small indulgence; with just a tiny gesture with his fingertips, he sent out a gentle wave of reassurance toward the sentries standing their posts, and he passed by, unnoticed.

Had the guards seen him, they would surely have remarked on it, though it's doubtful they would have tried to stop him; he was well known in these corridors. But his appearance was decidedly at odds with his customary subdued sartorial elegance. His clothing was ripped and torn and scorched in places, and there were ugly, blistering burns on his arms and his face. A jagged cut, thick with dried blood, marred his temple, while a livid bruise stained his cheekbone. Dark stains obscured large areas of his leggings and had even soaked through one tan boot.

But most of all, the difference - the remarkable difference - was in his eyes, eyes ordinarily as warm and welcoming as a tropical sea, now cold and glacial and frosted with grim determination.

His approach to the elaborately carved doors of her private chamber was completely silent; yet the door swung open as he drew near, and a slender figure, draped head-to-toe in burgundy ombre, stepped forward to meet him.

Sabé drew a deep shaky breath, and extended a gentle hand to his face. He was so wounded - so battered, and his pain hovered around him like an aura, almost visible in the darkness. There was no need to ask him what had happened; the words would have been superfluous.

He regarded her with a weary smile, which she returned and, for a fleeting moment, they were lost in bright scraps of memory; memories of whispered sweet nothings and hungry kisses; of moonlight trysts and bodies entwined; of stolen moments and suppressed laughter. Obi-Wan sighed, and clasped her hand, and pressed a gentle, bloodless kiss against her forehead - a kiss for all the tomorrows they would never share. A kiss for good-bye.

The bedroom was filled with shadows, lighted only by the flicker of candles, supplemented by the moon's luminescence.

She was so small, so slender, that she was almost lost in the huge bed. Of her face he could see little, beyond its elfin shape and almost bloodless pallor. But her eyes were enormous, and filled with fear.

She opened her mouth to ask, as he approached, and he opened his mouth to tell her. But, in the end, neither spoke, for the words were unnecessary.

He had promised to bring her husband home to her; he had returned alone.

He watched the play of emotions in her eyes; saw a brief flare of anger and stood, ready to accept whatever resentment she might wish to vent on him. He had failed to keep his promise. He had failed to keep his padawan at his side. He had failed.

Ultimately, she would ask him nothing, as she saw the depth of the torment within him, and understood that his agony would become for him a permanent companion - something he would never be able to lay down. And, beyond that horror, she saw the guilt and knew it to be unwarranted, but knew as well, that he would never forgive himself for what he saw as his defeat.

There was a moment in which they seemed to draw away from each other, to recoil from the seering pain each recognized in the other.

But they had known each other for too long; had held each other and supported each other and fought together too many times for her to hold on to the bitterness within her. This was Obi-Wan; she needed no more explanation than that. If he had not brought Anakin home to her, it was because there had been no possible way to do so.

And he remembered that she knew him in ways that no one else ever had, had watched him agonize over his choices and fight to protect the young boy who had been the only family he had ever known, the legacy left to him by his own Master.

With a small, wordless cry, she reached for him, and he knelt beside her and allowed himself to be held. The tears came then, for both of them. Deep, wracking sobs that seemed to rip through their souls; sobs that heralded the end of their lives as they had known them.

Time was short; they knew that. Yet still they lingered, giving and taking comfort, sharing the memories; sharing the death of hope; sharing the terrible burden of what they must now do.

The eastern sky was streaked with a splash of citrine when he rose, and simply stood looking down at her, knowing it was for the last time.

Padmé raised a pale hand, and Sabé was there, her arms cradling a small, well-wrapped bundle which she laid in her mistress's arms. Obi-Wan managed, somehow, to swallow the terrible sadness that welled within him as he watched this lovely, brave woman - this woman who had given so much, and must now give so much more, until she had, at last, nothing left to give - say her final good-byes to a child who would have no memory of her.

The Sith must not learn of the children of Anakin Skywalker. And this was the only way.

She surrendered the infant finally, and clasped the hand of this golden knight - this tragic hero who would stand, for all eternity if necessary, in defense of her only son.

He kissed her fingers and was gone.

Morning came to Naboo, as it had every morning of her life, but Amidala was lost in darkness. It would never be morning again. She would do what she must; she would take Leia to Bail; she would see to it that her children survived.

She would trust Obi-Wan, as she had always trusted him.

But soon - very soon, she thought - the burdens would no longer be hers to bear. Soon, others would take the reins, and continue the fight that she was too tired to continue.

Soon, but, oh, gods, not quite soon enough!

The End


End file.
